


5 Times Dolorous Edd Tried To Ignore Jon And Tormund's Relationship And 1 Time He Made It His Business.

by twigglettz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Edd is so much fun to write, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7396645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigglettz/pseuds/twigglettz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Dolorous Edd Tried To Ignore Jon And Tormund's Relationship And 1 Time He Made It His Business.

Eddison Tollett was known for keeping out of other people's affairs. It wasn't that he didn't care, not really, he just learned long ago that sticking his nose in where it didn't belong only ended in him being yelled at. He was good at following orders and even though he didn't always agree with them, he'd been doing this shit too long to stop now. So when Jon became Lord Commander, he'd been happy for about six seconds before they were headed to the middle of nowhere-on-ice following a man who he was pretty sure had been a prisoner earlier that day. They'd rode over over on Stannis' boats and the sway of the waves crashing against the hull had made him sick. Twice. In an hour. Whilst he was bent over the deck, he wondered why Jon had trusted the word of a wildling. Especially one who had led an enemy group into their home and slaughtered their brothers. He'd gotten his answer a few days later when they rowed ashore, a few crows and a ginger traitor facing several armies of wildlings who all wanted blood. Edd idly hoped they'd get it. Jon and Tormund, at least he thought that was his name, were demanding to see some elders to broker in a peace. And then that twat with a skull on his face started prattling on about the wildling sucking Jon's cock and – oh. Tormund had caved his head in with his own stick before he'd even finished the sentence and between the unnecessary violence and the sudden quietness from Jon, it all made sense. Edd quickly decided that he'd rather have kept on guessing.

\---

They'd been back at Castle Black for two nights before he became acutely aware of the food problem. They'd brought back maybe five thousand wildlings with them with the intent that they'd grow their own fucking crops, but Jon was adamant that they didn't all starve before they could settle. So that meant rationing their already meagre supplies and watering down the rabbit broths that were already more water than taste anyway. But Edd wasn't a man to kick up a fuss, so when he was surrounded by angrier crows than him, he'd kept his mouth shut and ate his damn food. It only really irked him when he'd bumped into Tormund one night after his watch, tired and cold and hungry and completely ready to collapse into his bed, when he noticed that he was holding a chicken leg. A perfectly cooked, golden brown, half chewed chicken leg. It was still on the bone and it smelled fucking delicious. Edd hadn't realised he was staring until he saw it swaying in front of his vision.

“Here,” Tormund grunted, motioning with his eyebrows for him to take it. He did. “I've had two already. Who knew Lord Snow could cook.” He brushed past Edd, heading in the direction of Jon's quarters, and disappeared into the darkness. Glancing around, he checked that no other member of the Night's Watch had seen the exchange, before fleeing to his room. Once the door had shut behind him, he sunk his teeth into the meat and thought of anything except his Lord Commander and the wildling. 

\---

It was a few days later and Edd was back on watch. It was quieter now they had no wildlings to look out for, or at least none that wanted to kill them, so they only needed one man to look out for the hoards of dead men that wanted to kill them instead. With winter almost upon them (and if Jon made one more comment about that, he might have to punch him), the nights were drawing in sooner and sooner. It was already well past dark and everyone else was either asleep or elsewhere, leaving Edd with a bit of peace and quiet for a change. He'd already scratched a crude picture of a cock into the ice of the wall and was now idly watching the clouds of his breath die in the dim light of the torches nearby. It was only when there was a particularly strong gust of wind that he heard it. Ears pricking up, hand automatically going to the hilt of his sword, he paused his breathing. There it was again. It was inside the castle. It couldn't have been white walkers, it was too faint. There had been no doors breaking, no walls crumbling, no clashes of swords or axes. No, it was softer. Edd swore under his breath as he made his way to the lift. He was going to fucking kill whichever new recruit had decided to get lucky with a wilding girl. It was bad enough when Mole's Town existed, but now that the wildling spearwives didn't expect them to pay, some of the men got a little too excited. 

The noise only got louder when he'd gotten back to ground level. Oh, she was a screamer alright. He was surprised more of his brothers hadn't bothered to get up to stop the racket before Jon woke up and yelled at them all. He rolled his eyes as he stomped through the empty walkways. They were probably all pleasuring themselves at the show she was putting on. It was only when he was face to face with the offender's door that he realised why noone had intervened. The choruses of “so good” and “such a tight cunt” were punctuated uncomfortably by the phrase “what a pretty crow” and Edd had all but fled from outside Jon's quarters and back to the lift before he heard any more.

\---

Edd was overlooking latrine duty. Overlooking it, he thought smugly. Gone were the days of him digging his own shit hole. Now he had twenty men that he could command and by the old gods and the new and every single fucker inbetween, he was never going to dig another fucking hole again. He swore it on his old mum's grave before realising that most men had higher ambitions in life and quickly took it back. 

“Sir!” Edd was pulled out of his thoughts by a particularly young boy, red hair messy and accent that he couldn't quite place. “The Lord Commander requests your appearance.” He stumbled over his words like he wasn't used to the language, and Edd assumed he was one of Jon's new wildling recruits. He nodded and waved him along, eyeing up the workers busily working with their shovels. When he'd glared at them enough that he was confident they wouldn't slack off in his absence, Edd slowly wandered back to the main door. He made his way to Jon's quarters, trying his very best to avoid as many people he could, and rapped on the door with his knuckles. When Jon invited him in, he entered swiftly, pulling the heavy wood behind him closed.

“I'm overlooking a very important job, Snow. What can I help you with?” Edd liked having a friend as his commander, liked having to forfeit the absurd regulations about how he had to address him, liked not having to be out there with a shovel. Jon chuckled, hands spread on his desk with his weight leaning on them, papers and scripts piled on top of each other. Jon paced towards him, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, making Edd feel better than he had in weeks. 

“Just checking in, Edd.” Jon had smiled at him and Edd had felt a pang of loss. He wasn't a man of words. Pyp or Grenn would have made a smart fucking comeback, forced Jon to laugh and shake his head like he used to before the responsibility of the world was forced on him. All Edd could do was nod in agreement, bringing his hand up to rest on Jon's to let him know he really was okay. 

The moment was broken when Tormund had barged through the door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of Edd. Jon's eyes softened, head tilting slightly, and he dropped his arm down by his side. 

“I didn't know we had visitors,” Tormund had said, bumping forcefully into the back of Edd and disappearing into the bedroom. Edd knew when he wasn't wanted and made his excuses to Jon before leaving, drawing a deep breath of the icy air when he was outside. Well. He still had a job to do. 

\---

Jon had been dead. His corpse had been cold and blue right in front of him, naked as the day he was born and completely and utterly dead. Edd had gone to save his brothers, begging Tormund to avenge his friend and save their allies. Tormund had visibly deflated at the news, fingers shaking as he took his sword in hand, barking orders to other wildlings and following Edd back in silence.

When they'd rode back to Castle Black, Jon had been alive. Edd had been worried that he was a white walker, hand grasping the hilt of his sword and adrenaline pumping, but Tormund had jumped on him. He wrapped his arms around him and Edd was sure that Jon had sobbed into the embrace. It lasted far too long, Tormund wrapping his fingers in Jon's hair and Jon practically clinging to the wildling's clothes. Edd looked away until Jon had embraced him. Whilst he hugged his best friend, he couldn't help but look at Tormund. He had tears in his eyes, hands still, and Edd knew in that moment that Jon was noone but himself. 

That night, Edd had retreated to his quarters and pulled the covers over his head, determined not to hear the noises echoing from Jon's cabin. 

\---

He had found out too late. He'd been on a scouting mission with a group of boys wholly incapable of doing the job and Edd had had to teach them how to be functional members of the Night's Watch. When they'd returned to Castle Black, he'd made a beeline to his room, desperate to sleep for a week. He was about three paces away from his door when he'd heard it: Jon Snow was getting married to a bastard wildling. Edd had snapped at the man who had said it, yelled until he was sure that it wasn’t just a rumour. He sprinted to his horse and rode towards the nearest wildling camp, demanding answers. The spearwives were happy to give up the information, seemingly pleased that their leader was marrying the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. So Edd had almost killed his horse riding to the place the ceremony was taking place.

“You goddamned cunt,” Edd had yelled when he found Jon in the biggest tent in the settlement. Jon's face paled, stuttering half excuses. “You didn't invite me?” There was a pause before they both broke down in laughter. Jon had embraced Edd, briefly, before letting go. 

“I didn't think you'd approve,” Jon had murmured, dressed entirely in black and holding Edd's shoulders at arms length. Edd looked back to how happy Jon had become since Tormund had been in Castle Black and realised that Jon had mistook his lack of enthusiasm as a lack of acceptance. 

“I didn't think you'd assume.” Jon grinned at the statement. “Let's get you married, eh?” Jon nodded, tears in his eyes, and for the first time in his life, Edd was glad he'd stuck his nose in.

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to the Jonmund Squad on Tumblr.


End file.
